Whoever you say I am
by Original Prankster
Summary: Harry died at the final battle, when his friends bring him back to the world of the living via a spell, how can they be sure it's really Harry?


He set the shovel to the cold earth again, heaving against it with all his might. The ground was frozen and barren, it must have thawed some time in this past year but he had never been around when it had. The parity of his experience struck him. A year ago on this day he was digging a grave. Today he was digging one up. He sighed heavily and stepped back.

'Solem.' He started as a thick swath of light swept the ground before him and he could feel the steam that billowed up from the frozen earth.

He looked up at Hermione in irritation. 'A little warning next time would be nice.'

'I can always freeze the ground solid again, Ron.' She replied.

'No that's fine, isn't it _Ron_?' Neville stared at him from where he stood with a shovel. Ron looked up at Hermione. She'd never been quite the same since Harry had died, always a little bit more intense, a little more serious. And Hermione had never been exceptionally playful before. He understood now of course, three days ago it had all become clear again.

'Sorry.' He muttered and set his back into the soil again.

'Hurry up Ron.' Ginny told him, a little on edge, they had very little time.

'You know maybe it would go a lot faster if you helped us out here.' He was on edge, he knew that. Not surprising considering what they were doing.

'You know it's nice out here.' Hermione said quietly looking off into the distance. 'I didn't see it at the time, but I think he would have liked it here.'

'Maybe because the last time we were here it was marred by all the dead bodies.' Ron muttered under his breath. They had buried Harry where he had fallen, not two steps from where Voldemort had been destroyed. His body had been handed over to the magical authorities for destruction, they had lain Harry to rest here.

Ron had missed Harry desperately this year, an ache inside that never quite went away. He'd been intensely lonely, Hermione's utter rejection of him had seen to that. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. He stood by his estimation of her as a little scary, still brilliant, but scary. She'd been researching for the past year, allowed to dive into the restricted section of the library at Hogwarts, given complete free reign.

He hadn't known, of course, what she was searching for, what she had found. It was easier sometimes to not visit her, to not see her vacant and frantic as she hunted down fact after elusive fact. She had visited him in his room three nights ago to show him what she'd discovered. Three nights where she uttered the words that had turned his life around. _We can bring him back_.

He'd called her crazy, macabre, a ghoul. He knew that attacking her like that was his way of trying to protect himself, because if they never tried they could never fail. If they never attempted to bring Harry back, he wouldn't have to grieve his best friend all over again. He shook his head and put his back into turning out the dirt onto the side.

'Suppose this works.' He began.

'It will work.' Hermione said definitely.

'Suppose it does, what do we say to him?' He asked as wiped some sweat off his forehead.

They were all silent for the longest of moments. 'Welcome home.' Neville said quietly.

Neville and Ginny had been chosen because of the need for four people to take part in the spell, they were the ones physically near Harry when he had died and they would never try and talk them out of this. He shovelled hard, aware of his muscles screaming like a banshee and then he hit wood. The memory came back unbidden, there were no handy coffin shops around, they had ended up hollowing out a tree with magic for Harry's coffin. He looked up at the girls and pushed himself out if the pit he had dug, pulling hard on Nevilles' hand.

Hermione looked down on the coffin. 'Winguardium Leviosa.' She said and flicked her wand. Ron shivered with the earth as it disgorged the crude wooden box. She placed it carefully away from his grave and then looked at Ron. 'Open it.' He stared at her like she was crazy.

'You open it.' He retorted.

There was silence for a long moment before Neville stepped over to the coffin and heaved on the lid, Ron covered his nose at the stench of death that rose from it. Neville looked up at him dispassionately, as a man he had come on in leaps and bounds, so much more brave than anyone had believed, truly earning his place in Gryffindor at the end. 'What happens now?' Neville asked, watching the other three, not phased by the rotted corpse of their friend. Ron knew that was an image that would stay in his head forever, coupled with the memory of his death blow.

'We wait.' Hermione said. 'A year to the hour.'

'That was five hours ago.' Ron said after a moment.

'Three hundred, sixty four and a quarter days, Ron.' She said. 'We have an hour to wait. Just an hour.'


End file.
